


No It Wasn't

by camichats



Series: Imagine James and Sirius Prompts [30]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Canonical Character Death, Established Relationship, Fake Character Death, First War with Voldemort, Fluff, Getting Together, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, James Lives, M/M, Marriage, Memories, Memory Loss, Scars, Second War with Voldemort, Secret Relationship, Temporary Amnesia, Time Skips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2019-02-18 19:24:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13106895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/camichats/pseuds/camichats
Summary: Every "my fault" Sirius says, James is there to tell him "no it wasn't." Until he was gone, and Sirius knew it was his fault.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel/companion piece to [My Fault](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12632238)
> 
> For the prompts: “Hello, I don't know if I am writing this in the right place, I am Izzie141 from AO3 and I love you fictions .So I have prompt for you, could you maybe do back story for your last story (My Fault)? I would love to know why was Sirius in Azkaban, what happend and everything. With Happy ending please? <3 (Maybe in future they have kid or you know... just happy live after the Azkaban and everything what had happend)” and “That last story with post azkaban Sirius and james was so achingly beautiful. I wished thru all of ootp that James should just return &give Sirius the hug and the love and the kisses he deserves for all his suffering . Wud that be a valid prompt? Set in ootp-ish/ in grimld place with J coming back (to life/restored memory/diff dimension whichever works for u) & lots of love for Sirius (with maybe like harry finding out Sirius shud have been his parent too) or something like that? Thank you!!” 
> 
> Originally posted on [tumblr](https://imaginejamesandsirius.tumblr.com/post/168827897050/hello-i-dont-know-if-i-am-writing-this-in-the)

Sirius stumbled around the house, heading up to Harry’s room where the baby was screaming and crying, barely able to see through his tears. He didn’t come across James’s body on his way and that was- that- he. His feet stopped moving and he was slumped against the wall, sobbing into his hands.

He didn’t remember moving but next thing he knew, he was in Harry’s room, his little red night light casting an evil glow across Lily’s body and the tiny wound bleeding on his forehead. Sirius fell to his knees next to her and fumbled to check for a pulse that wasn’t there.

He didn’t have time to stand up and reach Harry before he heard heavy footsteps that could only belong to Hagrid. He squeezed through the partially destroyed doorway and laid a large hand on Sirius’s back in comfort. He was crying too, large droplets that fell into his beard.

Sirius didn’t know why he let Hagrid take Harry. He shouldn’t have. He should have said “Fuck Dumbledore” and grabbed his son and raised him the best he could with Remus’s help. Merlin, Remus. He’d thought-- _actually thought_ \-- that Remus was the traitor and maybe that was why he’d done it. Let Hagrid take his and James’s child so he could deal with his guilt. If he got Peter, it would fix that; he’d get revenge.

* * *

In his cell, with ocean water spraying him on one side and dementors torturing him on the other, he moved between the two based on what he thought he deserved.

He re-lived that moment of utter horror and dread when he saw the safe-house. “I thought,” he rasped to himself as he held himself tightly. “I thought,” _you’d be safe._ “I thought,” _it was the best decision_. “I thought,” _I was smart enough_. “I thought,” he tried to finish it with _wrong_ but it got stuck in his throat and he choked on it. _My fault, my fault, my fault_.

He didn’t know he was hurting himself until a splash of salt-water hit him and his sides stung viciously. His eyes were drawn to his hands, where his own blood was under his fingernails. He stared at them, head blank, until another splash came.

He reached his hand down and dug it into his side, gasping at the pain, but at the same time welcoming it. _My fault_.

* * *

Sirius didn’t think much of Pettigrew’s claim that he didn’t kill James and Lily, that he hadn’t betrayed them. He had lied to them in the past, and he would say anything to save his skin right now.

A quick glance at Remus proved that he didn’t believe it for a second either.

But he kept saying, “I didn’t kill him, I couldn’t kill him.”

Harry though, Gods- Harry was young and he didn’t trust Sirius, didn’t know him, and clearly didn’t know what to think. “Don’t kill him!”

All three of them froze, and Remus tried to reason with him. “Harry, he betrayed--”

“I know he did.” Harry looked scared but determined. “But I don’t think my dad would want either of you to become murderers for this.”

“He would’ve wanted a lot of things,” Sirius said quietly, but lowered his wand while Remus kept his raised. His impulse control had only gotten worse since escaping Azkaban and it didn’t take long together for Remus to realise that. A flick of his wrist and Peter was in chains, but oddly, Sirius didn’t feel the least bit satisfied at the sight.

“Sirius, I didn’t--” Another flick from Remus’s wand and Peter was gagged. That was good. Sirius couldn’t stand it if he continued on like that.


	2. Chapter 2

He didn’t know… he didn’t know.

* * *

He had a flat, he had a job. He was going on a year since… It was Halloween and he felt unsettled but couldn’t, for the life of him, figure out why.

He couldn’t remember his name and was going by John. It wasn’t right, but he didn’t know better.

The office where he worked felt familiar when he was doing paperwork, but anything else made him feel like a person out of place.

He was walking to his flat-- though it didn’t feel like _his_ \-- when he saw a group of kids dressed up as witches going to a party with the designated parents. The cloaks, the pointed hats, the various sticks to serve as wands all tickled his mind. He wondered if he used to dress up like that for his job before. Kids’ entertainer maybe?

That night he had a dream of making different colors of smoke appear in front of a happily gargling baby and figured he was finally going to remember some of his life.

A couple months later, he found a wand hidden amongst his belongings. It was fine crafted and when he held it, it felt right in his hand. A few days later, he took to carrying it everywhere with him because it felt safer, made him feel even footed. He knew enough to know not to mention it to anyone, but never stopped bringing it with him.

There was a ring, too. A wedding band that had an inscription on the inside: _To the very end and further_. He slid it on his finger but didn’t keep it there. His husband must have died or left him if they hadn’t come for him.

* * *

It was a few days into November and he felt he was missing something important. He made a cake, chocolate, and topped it with strawberries.

He put a candle in the center and lit it, but didn’t blow it out because it wasn’t for him. He just watched it burn to the bottom then scooped the wax off.

He felt unreasonably alone.

It became a tradition. Every November third, he made a chocolate cake with strawberries and watched a birthday candle burn itself out.

He was waiting. He didn’t know what for.

* * *

He was in a section of London he hadn’t been to before-- at least, not that he remembered being to before.

He started walking automatically, bringing him to a telephone booth that claimed to be out of order. His hand was reaching for the door handle by the time his mind caught up, and he hesitated. What was he doing? It had been years, he had a good life. He shouldn’t be walking around London in the dead of the night a decade and a half after he lost all his memories on some wild goose chase.

He looked behind him to consider going home, but he had already made his decision.

He swallowed thickly and tried not to think too much. He picked up the receiver with his right hand as his left typed out numbers by rote. He noticed, after typing them, that they spelled out ‘magic’, and he wanted to bang his head against the glass. He was making a complete arse of himself and--

“Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business,” a cool voice said, not from the receiver, but as if from a speaker in the booth.

“Er, James? For… memory?” he said unsurely into the phone, looking around as if a tiny woman would appear in the corner and explain this to him. ‘James’ sounded right. Was that his name? He thought so.

“Thank you. Visitor, please take the badge and attach it to the front of your robes.” As she was speaking, a small badge clattered out of the coin return.

James hung up the phone and grabbed the badge. On it, it read _James, Memory_ , causing him to frown at it nervously. The words had been etched in, more work than could be accomplished in a few seconds. He ran his finger over it lightly, and felt the indentions. So, not a trick. He thought about what the voice said and hesitated. He didn’t have robes, and he wasn’t entirely sure this wasn’t some sort of fever dream-- though it looked less and less like that was the case-- so he just held it in his hand.

“Visitor to the Ministry, you are required to submit to a search and present your wand for registration at the security desk, which is located at the far end of the atrium.”

His hand reflexively went to his trouser’s pocket, where his wand was currently resting. Search and present? Was there a rank he was supposed to remember? Some sort of secret handshake so they didn’t throw him out?

The floor shuddered and started lowering, and as he watched the ceiling of the booth disappear, he got the feeling he was in _way_ over his head. His right hand was clasping his wand, and his left the badge he’d been given. The edges of the badge were cutting into his hand, but he didn’t dare let go for fear of failing entirely.

The lift finally stopped. “The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant evening,” the mysterious voice said, and the doors opened.

James had worried the whole way down about what to do, but when the doors opened, the grand hallway was empty. The lights were dim and the mantel places empty, but it seemed… familiar, somehow. Like he’d been here before.

He started moving automatically, his legs leading him to a lift. He stepped inside, then drew his wand and laid it flat on his palm. “Point me.” His heart was pounding in his chest and he just about fainted with relief when the wand spun to the buttons and lit up the number nine. James swallowed thickly and pressed the nine, not pocketing his wand like he’d meant to. He felt safer with it out. Besides, worst comes to worst, someone finds him and assumes he’s mad for carrying around a stick like it has power. Even as he thought it, it sounded like a joke. His free hand reached up and ran through his hair, reminding him that he was still holding the badge. He studied it for a minute while the lift ran, then put it in his pocket.

The next half hour was a blur of muscle memory and guesswork when he finally stumbled across another human being. Unfortunately that person was dressed in all black and a creepy skull mask, and somehow managed to convey through that mask that they were not at all happy to see him.

“Potter,” they spat.

James glanced behind himself quickly-- just to make sure he hadn’t walked in the middle of a western showdown with wands instead of guns-- but no, it was just him and the skull mask person. He half-smiled and shrugged helplessly. Was his last name Potter? James Potter… he liked the sound of that.

They gestured with their wand, shooting a blast of blue at him, but his own hand moved quickly, casting first a small light shield, and then a jet of red light that hit them square in the chest and knocked them to the ground, where they didn’t move. He shuffled closer, then poked them with the toe of his shoe a few times. No reaction.

His fingers twitched uselessly as he thought. Not giving himself time to reconsider, he leaned down and pulled off the mask. He tilted his head to the side as he took in their features, remembering. Nothing specific, but he knew they were dangerous and a criminal.

He stood back up and started walking down the hallway they’d been guarding though, because he was a reckless berk, apparently. Absentmindedly, he dropped the mask and readjusted his grip on his wand. The part of him that had been working a desk job for the last decade and a half was nervous, but that part of him felt fake now, like a complex dream that had gotten out of hand. He walked confidently, but fuck if he knew where he was _actually_ going.

He ran across a few other people, all of them in those skull masks. Luckily, they all seemed surprised to see him, so he was able to win quite easily. The deeper in he got, the more he felt like something was terribly wrong. Not with him for once, which was a nice change, but wrong as a whole. What were all these people doing in the Ministry so late with no one else around? If he started getting his memories back just to be murdered by a cult, he was going to be angry.

He heard the sounds of fighting and picked up his pace until he was running, practically punching the door in his rush to open it.

...And then he ran into someone. Fortunately it was a skull mask person and it made their spell go wide. James avoided tripping by jumping over their body with an instinct he didn’t know he had. He shot a stunning spell at the one he ran into, then looked around the room feeling a little uncomfortable. Nobody seemed to notice him, which was kinda upsetting. Having his memory partially returned and immediately stumbling on a battle was dramatic, damn it, and he wanted recognition. But not enough to actually interrupt anyone and nearly get them killed.

After a little time and a lot of hecticness and the arrival of someone who looked like a snake/human hybrid and _then_ the arrival of the authorities, the fight ended. In James’s ever so humble opinion, they were all fucking morons, but he didn’t actually remember why he thought that, just that he did. A bit of it came to light when they tried to arrest one of the good guys (a haunted man that picked at James’s brain but he didn’t have a name for yet) and James called the auror a twat and walked more towards the group.

That, of course, brought all the attention to him, but he just raised an eyebrow and looked pointedly at where the auror’s wand was still pointing at… his friend? The wand in question did lower, but more out of shock than anything else. He mentally shrugged; he would take what he could get.

“James?” he whispered.

He looked down at himself then back up. “I think so.” He moved closer, brushing the auror out of the way. “You’re… we’re friends. Right?”

Pain flashed across his face but was gone in an instant. He nodded. “Yeah. The best.”

James tilted his head as an impression came to mind. “Did you have a dog?” He held his hand out next to his waist. “Black, shaggy, never grew out of the puppy phase?”

He was grinning now, looking entirely too amused for James asking if he had a pet dog, but he nodded.

James narrowed his eyes at him. “And he got sprayed by a skunk and rolled all over the bed.”

He laughed-- which sounded suspiciously like a bark-- and closed the distance between them and pulled him into a hug. “Shut it,” he mumbled fondly.

“Twenty years and he’s still not over it,” someone else said, amused. “But perhaps we should get out of the Ministry before we talk more.”

He reluctantly let go of James, but stayed close by. He beckoned one of the teenagers-- teenagers!-- that looked awfully familiar over to him and had a whispered conversation that James didn’t even attempt to eavesdrop on because he was a gentleman. And also he wanted to look at the rest of the people in the room and see if he recognised them.

The aurors and some of their group were having what looked to be a very heated discussion, but it was clear who would win out, and it wasn’t the government.

The one who had talked before was definitely familiar, and James glanced back at his best mate-- who he still didn’t have a name for-- for a moment. “Didn’t there used to be four of us?”

They both tensed. The one with light brown hair and a faded scar on his face gave James a tight smile. “It’s complicated.”

“Is he dead?”

“He should be,” his best mate growled.

James raised his brow. “Alright. Complicated, got it.”

A different man with a scar-gnarled face and a false eye finished having a conversation with whoever was in charge of the aurors-- who was now pale and looking thoroughly unmanned-- and said, “Let’s get the hell out of here. Good to have you back, Potter,” he said with barely a glance his direction-- with the normal eye, that is.

“I’m sure I’d say the same if I could remember you,” James replied cheerily, which was odd since the other man didn’t appear like the kind of person you’d want to fuck around with, but it was a reflex, like using his wand and wanting to walk right beside his best mate in a way that was almost _too_ close. Had there been something more there once?

He apparently remembered how to use the floo, which was a relief. It was frustrating enough to have everyone looking at him like he should know them, he didn’t want to add any more complications to that. Before he went through, he tapped his best mate’s arm while nobody was paying them (much) attention. “What’s your name?” he whispered.

“Sirius.”

“Sirius…” James repeated. Echoes of feelings reverberated through his bones. “I love you. Right?”

Sirius smiled softly at him. “That’s what you always told me.”

“Black!” the man with the blue eye said, and Sirius responded to it. He motioned for him to go through the fire, which he did with a back glance at James. James went through next, less because he was told-- he wasn’t-- and more because he felt unsettled being away from Sirius even for a few seconds. Also he was confused because that meant Sirius’s last name was Black? It didn’t sit right; it felt like a lie.

James grinned at a waiting Sirius and followed him to what was probably the dining room since it had a long table. He sat next to him while waiting for… well, he wasn’t entirely sure. Probably for everyone else to show up. The familiar-looking teenager from before came up and sat next to Sirius, who put an arm around him and gave him a quick hug and asked how he was feeling. He shrugged in reply and looked at James behind battered glasses with excited yet worried eyes.

“James, this is Harry,” Sirius introduced.

James smiled at him and waved, though internally he was thrown. He’d always thought that if he had a son, he’d name him Harry, but this Harry looked just old enough that James must have remembered at least a fragment of him and integrated it into his life. “Hullo Harry. So we’re, what, brothers?”

Harry blinked at him and started to look awkward. “Er no. You’re my father.”

It was James’s turn to blink dumbly. “Er…” he laughed nervously and looked to Sirius. “How’s that possible?”

Sirius gave him a sad smile. “Well he was born before you died- or lost your memories and we all thought you died.”

“No I mean--” he hesitated. He’d known he was bent for as long as he could remember, and it had never been something he was ashamed of, but was it possible that he didn’t tell Sirius? Looking at Sirius now though, it was clear that Sirius knew and was hoping, for Harry’s sake, that James wouldn’t say anything. He had no bloody idea what was going on, but he trusted Sirius. He shook his head and gave Harry an apologetic look. “Sorry. I guess I shouldn’t argue shite I can’t remember. Wait. Am I allowed to curse in front of him? Is that something parents shouldn’t do?” James was starting to get seriously worried, but Sirius was laughing.

“He’s fifteen, Jamie, not five; it’s fine.”

* * *

“We were together,” James said, and giving the theory voice solidified it.

Sirius swallowed. Nodded.

“Did we break up?”

Sirius snorted, but it sounded upsettingly close to crying. “No you _died_ you fucker.”

James took a step forward, but Sirius backed up.

“You were dead for fourteen buggering years and you can’t just show up and act like nothing’s changed! We were _married_ James and you don’t even remember me! I can’t- this is-” Sirius stopped himself, covering his mouth with one of his hands, and the other hugging his middle. “I can’t,” he repeated.

* * *

James had tried-- for a few days-- to treat Sirius like they were mates and nothing more. He’d never made so many aborted gestures in his entire life, he was sure of it. He started remembering more and… he told Sirius that he couldn’t continue on like this.

“I don’t remember much, and I know I’m missing most of our relationship, but… I love you. And I don’t see how that’s ever going to change.”

“James,” Sirius said, and it was a terrible mixture of longing and apology.

“We don’t have to jump back in,” James rushed to assure him. “We can take it slow. I’m still me, though, aren’t I? You still love me, and I know you miss me. Pomfrey says I’ll get all my memories back, but we don’t have to wait for it to happen to be together.”

Sirius chewed on his lip. “Slow,” he agreed.

James nodded eagerly. “Slow.”

* * *

‘Slow’ as it turned out, was, for them, not slow for other people. It helped that James was remembering more and more of their past with each day, but they hadn’t been anywhere approaching slow their first time either.

“We went plenty slow,” Sirius said, grinning at him with snog-swollen lips.

“I asked you on a date and you sucked me off in our dorm that night.”

“You deserved it,” Sirius said, as if it had been a punishment, “for waiting so long to ask me.”

“I didn’t pay any attention to sex or romance before that!”

“Oh yes you did,” Sirius argued. “But it was towards me and you convinced yourself that that was just how people felt about their best mates.”

James wrinkled his nose. “Seriously?”

Sirius nodded and kissed him again.

* * *

James watched Sirius and Harry interact with a feeling in his chest that could not be described as anything other than warm and fuzzy. James was trying to build a relationship with Harry, but unsurprisingly it was difficult and slow. Not that he minded, he knew it would take time to build a relationship out of nothing with all the expectations but none of the familiarity.

The thing about watching Sirius and Harry though, was that it was _right_. It was clear that they were still getting used to each other, testing boundaries and comfort, but James couldn’t help the way it seemed to slot into place in his mind.

“He’s ours,” James said when they were alone.

“What?”

“Harry, he’s not my son, he’s _our_ son. She-- that woman--”

“Lily,” Sirius supplied in a quiet voice.

James nodded absently, not having any memories of her but annoyed that everyone aside from Sirius and Remus expected him to remember the most about her. “Lily,” he continued, “had him for us. We asked her to.”

“Yeah.”

“Does Harry know?”

Sirius shook his head. “I wasn’t going to tell him before. He had so little, you know? I didn’t want to complicate his life more. He thinks the world of her.”

* * *

Molly Weasley, the mother of one of Harry’s best friends, didn’t seem to like Sirius very much. Naturally, that meant James didn’t like her, no matter how friendly she was towards him.

It didn’t help that Molly was one of the people that kept pressuring him to remember Lily. James did remember Lily a little now, but it wasn’t anything that could be construed as romantic. She was self righteous-- or had been, in Hogwarts-- and James had gone out of his way to piss her off.

Remus spoke fondly of Lily, as did Sirius, although his emotions seemed more complicated. It wasn’t hard to guess why-- everyone thought James had been in love with her, when in reality it had been Sirius, had only _ever_ been Sirius.

James lost his temper on the day of his and Lily’s supposed anniversary because everyone was tip-toeing and trying to make him feel better in a condescending way when he didn’t feel shit in the first place.

He sort of told everyone that he loved Sirius, had only loved Sirius, and would only love Sirius, and that, even if that somehow wasn’t true, he was gay, so they needed to bugger off and leave him alone.

Luckily, Harry wasn’t there for it, having left for Hogwarts earlier in the month. He still heard about it, maybe in explicit detail, but it would never come close to if he had actually been there to hear James yell.

* * *

Sirius told him about Azkaban. They went to sleep in the same bed-- _finally_ \-- and James rested easy. When he woke up, Sirius was gone.

James rolled his eyes and made his way downstairs, wincing at the cold floor on his feet. One of these days he would convince Sirius to redecorate, although by the time that happened, Sirius would be free and sure as hell wouldn’t stick around Grimmauld Place.

Sirius was standing in front of the stove attempting to make eggs, and James came up behind him and wrapped his arms around him, resting his head against Sirius’s. He tensed up for only a moment before he relaxed. “I’m trying to cook, y’know.”

James nodded. “‘Trying’ as in you have never made something edible on the stove in your entire life.”

“It’s never going to happen if you don’t let me try.”

James kissed his cheek but otherwise didn’t move. “Shame.”

The eggs ended up overcooked but somehow still runny. Sirius took a tentative nibble before throwing them in the rubbish bin. He sighed, leaning back against James. “You’ve been hugging me for ten minutes.”

“Yep.”

“Are you planning on stopping?”

“Nope.”

Sirius huffed, but James knew he didn’t mind. “Arsehole.”

James snuggled into him. “Yep.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is from a prompt driven blog @[imaginejamesandsirius](https://imaginejamesandsirius.tumblr.com) on tumblr. Feel free to send in a prompt of your own!


End file.
